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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848289">sunflowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Starry - Dahan &amp; D'Angelo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Introspection, Vincent's death, listen to Starry y'all, numerous random metaphors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo watches Vincent die</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sunflowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sunflowers are wilting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s the one thing that Theo can’t stop thinking about. He’s sitting in a hard wooden chair by his brother’s bedside, in a room that smells strongly of blood and bleach, and he can’t tear his mind away from the sunflowers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s almost funny that Theo’s thoughts keep returning to the sunflowers. Someone - the Ravoux girl maybe - had brought them in earlier in the day to brighten up the room. They sit in a small glass vase on the dresser, fairly inconspicuous in the grand scheme of things. Exactly eight sunflowers are there, Theo had counted - and recounted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sunflowers are Vincent’s favorite flowers; Theo wonders if the people here know that. Maybe it’s their bright color, or their amazing resilience, or some other reason that Theo can’t fathom, but Vincent had always been particularly drawn to sunflowers. He’d painted them over and over again, the level of detail not decreasing at all with the repetitions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Theo, on the other hand, has never been very fond of sunflowers. It’s something about them. They are not alive, not really; they are always on the verge of death, unable to avoid their inevitable decay, no matter how vivid they are.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Perhaps that is the truth of all things. Maybe that’s why Theo is here now, watching his brother slowly die. Vincent had shot himself in the wheat fields. And then he had picked himself up and walked back to the inn after nobody had looked for him. Why hadn’t anyone looked for him? Why do flowers have to rot?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Theo stands up and paces the room. When Vincent paints something, he immortalizes it, a single moment stretching into infinity. A bouquet of flowers that will never wither away. Maybe if someone painted this exact moment, they’d be stuck in time; left with both the pain and the stubborn hope. A still life to prevent the upcoming decline.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Theo stops in front of the dresser. He lays a hand on the vase and wonders what would happen if he broke the thing. Threw it to the ground and stomped on the flowers for good measure. They already call Vincent a madman; now they’d be able to call Theo one as well. The brothers Van Gogh, matched in every way, both crazy and cursed. Theo lets go of the vase and returns to his seat by the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vincent looks so peaceful in his bed that for a second, Theo imagines that he could be sleeping. There is a flaw with that, of course, which is that Vincent is never peaceful when he sleeps. He shifts and mutters under his breath, as active during the night as he is in daytime. Theo had learned it during their childhood, and then again during the years they’d lived together in Paris, reaching for their new horizon. And how could Vincent do this now? Just when it seemed they might get to that horizon. Their place in the sky, becoming more tangible with every brushstroke. Theo knows he can’t reach it without Vincent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thing is, Theo has never lived in a world without Vincent in it. Vincent has left his signature all over Theo's life. When Theo was younger, he had idolized his older brother, hanging on to every word that Vincent said. As he's grown older, Theo has stopped putting Vincent on such a pedestal. However, his love for his brother has not lessened in the least. If anything, it's only grown as they've become more and more intertwined in each other's lives. Existing without Vincent being there, in some shape or form, is something that Theo has no idea how to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This isn't the first time that Vincent has been on the threshold of eternity, but Theo has a horrible suspicion that it will be the last. That by this time tomorrow, Vincent will be <em> gone </em>. One of the only constants in Theo’s life, ripped away forever. And then Theo will go home to Jo and the baby and he’ll stare at the paintings hanging on every wall of his apartment and he’ll just feel empty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Theo climbs onto the bed and gently holds Vincent in his arms. Vincent is so warm and alive, blood circulating through his veins despite everything. He’s always been so much healthier than Theo, so much stronger; it isn’t fair that he should be the one to die first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few minutes later, Vincent’s eyes flutter open. He gives Theo a small smile. “Hey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.” Theo smiles back, trying to hold back his tears. If this is going to be Vincent’s last sight, then it shouldn’t be a sad one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re still here.” Vincent says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d like to die like this.” The words almost break Theo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t say that,” he says, trying to interject some false cheer into some voice, “You’ll get better. This will pass.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” Vincent says, and his eyes are glazed over, somewhere far, far away, “The sadness will last forever.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s barely a few seconds later when the life leaves Vincent’s body, once and for all. Theo can’t find the willpower to let go of him. He holds Vincent and sobs; sobs for all the things that never were and never will be. Vincent will never move back to Montmartre, he’ll never make a fresh start or paint his godson. He is part of the stars now, in a place that Theo can’t follow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone pulls Theo away from Vincent. They try to speak to him, but all the words blend together. They must give up at some point because when Theo comes back to himself, he’s alone. Alone with only a vase of wilting sunflowers to keep him company.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He takes a deep breath, and then another. Tomorrow he will have to make funeral arrangements, tomorrow he will have to write to his family and pull himself together. Tomorrow he will have to deal with the reality of Vincent being dead. But tonight, Theo just stares at the sunflowers and wonders if anything survives the decay.</p>
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